


Something Old

by stuckinabottle



Series: Bedroom Talk [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, M/M, Moving On, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinabottle/pseuds/stuckinabottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry begrudgingly attends the wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Old

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in december, but seeing the Harry video today inspired me to finish it up. Oh sigh.

When the letter came it sat like the lump in Harry's throat. Heavy and uncomfortable. He let it lay on his kitchen counter for nearly a month. The fat, cream colored envelope weighing in on all his meals, surveying his tiny flat. 

 

One night he came in, stumbling drunk, he decided to open it though. Ripping at the seams with unsteady hands. He nearly tore the card in two. He stared at the invitation for so long, its flowery cursive was long etched into his memory. He didn't know what had possessed him but he RSVPed saying that he and his plus one would be in attendance. 

 

The day finally arrived. Harry's sense of dread building and building all the while. A small part of him fantasized somehow stopping the event, but he knew that would never come to fruition. He ended up taking his down the hall neighbor, Liam, as his plus one. Liam was a really nice guy. Everyone liked Liam. Maybe Liam's warm smiles would distract people from the misery that had been brewing within Harry as of late.

 

Harry adjusted his bow tie for the umpteenth time. It just wouldn't lie flat. It was probably because when they were together he used to tie them. Harry had never been very good at it. He was pretty shit at most things.

 

"You ready to go?" asked Liam, looking dapper as ever. His hair slicked back, beard trimmed, suit fitted perfectly. 

 

"Yeah. As ready as I'll ever be."

 

...

 

There were fewer guests than Harry had expected. Only around 150 by his rough estimation. Harry followed Liam as they made their way to find seating. They sat towards the back. Harry tucked himself next to a pillar, praying to god he could just blend in. And possibly disappear through a hole into the floor. Liam squeezed his hand and whispered, "I think it's really great that you're here. I am sure it will mean a lot to him." 

 

Harry's stomach nearly did a full somersault and ran out the building at the site of the bride. He blonde hair was tucked neatly into a bun. Harry never understood why she put her hair up; it certainly looked better down. Her veil floated gently around her. Harry felt Liam shove him to standing as she began her procession in. He refused to look up the entire ceremony.

 

After it was all over and the happy couple had left the building, Liam said, "We don't have to go to the reception if you don't want to."

 

And because Harry had always been a masochist deep down, he said, "We should go. Not going to give up an open bar, right?" 

 

Liam shrugged, frowning slightly, "It's your call, mate."

 

"We're going," Harry announced before he could stop himself.

 

...

 

Harry sat at the table at the reception probably looking sour. They were put at some shit table with all elderly folks. They definitely belonged to Perrie that was for sure. He was making best friends with the bar tender. Somehow Liam had gotten swindled into dancing with just about every small child that was present at the wedding. What a shit friend.

 

"I'm really glad you could make it. It means a lot to me," Zayn said, after appearing out of thin air at Harry's side. Harry was startled, so he took a slow drink of his gin and tonic before saying anything.

 

"Yeah, of course," was all he could muster. He haphazardly gestured to nothing with his free hand.

 

"Erm, so, how have you been?" Zayn politely attempted conversation. His eyes bore into Harry.

 

"Peachy," Harry nearly snorted, crossing his arms. 

 

“You look good, really good. I mean it.”

 

“Why thank you.”

 

"Just so you know I, I am really sorry, about everything, all of it."

 

"You don't need to tell me," Harry began, "I guess I always sort of knew, knew that I'd end up losing."

 

"No, no. That's not it. It's my fault. I was too stupid, I was so young. We were both so young," Zayn fumbled for words.

 

"Look Zayn,” Harry took a deep breathe, “You're a married man now. All of this is in the past. Don't use me to try and clear your conscience or whatever.” Harry sighed and continued staring intently at his cuticles.

 

"I guess you're right." 

 

Zayn's face was defeated, and Harry would have been lying if he didn't say he like it. The look of upset, defeat on Zayn’s face. But it was also sort of bittersweet. Zayn looked good. Well he always looked good. But somehow he was more beautiful, more breathtaking than he had ever been. His hair was swept into its usual quiff, and he had a rather nice beard coming in. He was filled out and healthy looking. Zayn had always been a proper fittie though, hadn’t he? He just looked even better now. Harry felt a sharp spike of irrational jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

 

This was the perfect moment for Zayn's bride to slam into Zayn's side. 

 

"Hiya Harry!" she exclaimed, a little breathless. 

 

"I have heard so much about you," she gushed, "Zayn was all worried you wouldn't be able to make it. But I was like, of course Harry will make it! Best friends don't hold out on their best friends even if they move away."

 

"Of course. You look very beautiful Perrie," Harry gritted out. Zayn looked apologetic, but instead of apologizing, he just ushered Perrie on to greet the next guest. Harry could have screamed.

 

"Well that fucking sucked." 

 

"Tell me about it."

 

Harry hadn't realized he said that out loud. A blue eyed man had appeared at his table, a beer cradled in the crook of his arm. His suit was askew and his hair sort of piled onto some semblance of a style. He lifted his beer to Harry and took a long swig.

 

"Ahhh. Weddings. So which lucky half are you on? I'm going to assume the groom, because I would remember someone as," the man's gaze raked over Harry's body, "delectable as you."

 

"You guessed right."

 

"I thought so. I happen to be the ex boyfriend of the bride's former best friend. Come to witness the marriage of two loonies according to, well, everyone. I just came for the free booze."

 

"I'm Louis by the way," he extended a hand to Harry.

 

"Harry, I also came for the open bar."

 

"Don't look so melancholy young Harold, cheer up. Maybe, I'll even buy you a drink."

 

"They're free, so I don't really think that counts," Harry chuckled.

 

"Well, if you're feeling spontaneous, let’s say we get out of here?" Louis asked.

 

Harry looked around. Liam was being chatted up by a gaggle of old women. He looked occupied as ever. Zayn and Perrie were being sickeningly sweet together. It was time to leave.

 

"Sure, why not." 

 

Harry cautiously put out his hand. Louis took it and flashed the craziest grin Harry had ever seen. If for a moment, Harry felt something other than misery.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Louis in makes me sick in retrospect. Shrugs. So this series, "Bedroom Talk" is kind of multi-universe. Since Harry doesn't know Louis. Sigh. So confusing.
> 
> This occurs after Bedroom Talk and before Eggnog and Cigarettes. If it makes you feel any better in like a decade or so they start anew? (see E and C)


End file.
